The Shadow and the Sun

by Amanda Doyle

  As they mounted the steps together, Doctor Lamas was chuckling appreciatively at some remark she had managed to put over to him successfully, in spite of the barrier of language. Having seen her into the hall, he took his leave. Cecily gave him her hand quite charmingly, said something in a low voice and made some small gesture which apparently rounded off the joke they had shared. The doctor was still smiling to himself as he went away.

  Anna had been sitting on the terrace with Senora de Ceverio, awaiting the patient’s return.

  She had seen little of the Conde himself, except on his formal visits to Cecily’s apartments, and an occasional glimpse of his distant form, tanned and athletic, bathing from the little beach in the early morning. After that, he disappeared in his long cream car for the better part of the day, presumably either touring his domain or attending to business further afield.

  Anna enjoyed the old lady’s company, and a bond had sprung up between them even in the short space of a week.

  Senora de Ceverio loved to talk about her childhood and youth, and the gallants who had courted her, despite the inevitability of her betrothal at an early age to the man her parents considered to be a suitable match. Although she had been widowed for many years, her fine face kindled as she spoke of her husband, whose joys and sorrows she had shared, and of the three daughters she had borne him. Obviously they had come to love one another very deeply, and even now that she was alone, the old lady was not lonely. Her memories were evergreen. Her daughters had given her grandchildren, and she felt her life’s purpose had been fulfilled satisfactorily. She would dearly have welcomed a son, of course, but was not Nicolas now more precious to her than any son? When her children’s marriages had been suitably effected, Nicolas had insisted that she come to live in the Castillo, where he could assure himself that she lacked for nothing in the way of comfort and attention. Sometimes, at the times of the fiestas in Seville and Madrid, she went south to care for her grandchildren while the parents entertained on a lavish scale for days on end, but she was always happy to return again, to be with Nicolas.

  “He is a strange man, Anna,” she said. “I have in my heart this feeling that you do not altogether approve or understand him, little one, but for you I agree this may be difficult. He is at times severe and aloof, because he has many important projects to think about, and yet always he concerns himself with the happiness and well-being of his people and the many members of the families of Lorenzo and Valdarez. Always Nicolas must have the challenge, you comprehend. As a child and a boy, it was so. He filled his life with the adventures of sailing and horsemanship—he is a superb horseman, that one—and, unknown to his father, he dared much in the corrida—how you say, the bullfight. Always Nicolas must have adventure. But now, as a man, and the Conde de Barientos, he finds the challenge lies in other directions. Yet the greatest of these he neglects, the question of an heir to these estates that he cares for so greatly.”

  Senora de Ceverio paused, staring in preoccupation at the spilling trails of bright geraniums at the edge of the terrace. Anna had a feeling she was not aware of them, however. Her thoughts were elsewhere. She gave a little sigh.

  “Ah, well. Nicolas has known a great number of beautiful and suitable women. Several he has invited here, and I have thought that he had found the one of his choice, but it was not so. Doubtless, in time—quien sabe?—he will give to his old aunt the happy surprise. For this day I am waiting, sometimes not with patience—but it is not for me to concern myself. It is for Nicolas only. He alone is the master here, and no one—not even his foolish old aunt—may tell him what he will do, on this subject or upon any other.” The old lady rose with dignity, and took Anna’s hand.

  “Come, chiquilla, enough of my ramblings on matters which cannot interest you. Do I not hear the good doctor’s automobile approaching?”

  Anna accompanied her indoors obediently. She did not know whether to be glad or sorry that this particular conversation had come to an end. One way and another, it had somehow had an upsetting effect, although she didn’t pause to speculate on the reason.

  CHAPTER V

  That afternoon, Nicolas informed Cecily that he was giving a dinner for some of his closer friends on the next evening but one, to honour this milestone in her recovery.

  There was a teasing note in his voice as he said this, and a glint of amused appreciation in his eye as he observed the gratified expression on Cecily’s beautiful features.

  She put her hand for one moment on the sleeve of his jacket, pausing long enough for him to see the shapely fairness of her hands with their perfect oval tips. The magnificence of the ruby dress-ring which had once been her grandmother’s must surely be noted, too. It winked with almost indecent opulence against the rough-textured cream linen on which it lay.

  “Why, Nicolas, how perfectly sweet,” she cried. “Of course, I shall adore it. It’s so wonderful to be able to walk about again after all those tedious days in bed. You just can’t think what it means to be free of that monotony at last, and back among people.”

  The Conde’s firm mouth permitted itself an indulgent, small smile.

  “I think I can well imagine your feelings of relief, my dear Cecily, and that is why I plan this evening of entertainment. I, too, am relieved, but in a different way. I cannot forget that, had I not approached with speed at that particular time and place, your little car might even now be chasing along the roads of Spain, discovering new vistas at every turn. It is pleasant to have learned from Lamas today that you have suffered no permanent injury, and therefore we may now regard the accident as an adventure which has happily brought you two young ladies within the environs of the Castillo Barientos, where otherwise you would have driven by at top speed in your impudent little red car.”

  Cecily laughed outright.

  “It’s not looking so impudent now. Goodness knows what Daddy will say. I don’t suppose he’ll bark about it too much if the insurance cover takes care of things.” She clapped her hands together delightedly. “Oh, Nicolas, it’s so exciting being here, and you’ve been so kind. Tell me about the party. Will we be dining in that big banqueting room with the minstrels’ gallery?”

  “Of a surety, Cecily. That prospect pleases you, no? It calls itself the Sala del Conquistador, that room. It purports to be the hall in which my ancestor, the first Nicolas, celebrated at once the events of the birth of his first-born son Gaspar Faustino, and the successful conquering and pillaging of certain rival strongholds to the north and west. His return from the wars was fortuitously timed to welcome his heir. This happening of so many centuries ago need not concern two fair inglesas such as you and Miss Trent, but you will doubtless admire the beauty of the stained glass windows commemorating the event. My aunt tells me you have a fondness for such legends, Miss Trent?”

  Anna leaned forward in her chair eagerly.

  “Yes, I have, Senor Conde. In fact, Senora de Ceverio has already shown me the windows, and also the tapestries that the child’s mother brought with her from Venice as part of her dowry. She was a foreigner, wasn’t she?”

  “True. She was a princess from Tuscania. Her name was Beatrice.” The Conde flicked his cigarette-end with unerring aim across the azulejos to the obscurity of a bed of brilliant cannas beyond the terrace. “The first Conde set something of a fashion in that respect,” he told her offhandedly. “Many of the subsequent heirs to the estates of Barientos have gone far afield in their search for a wife.”

  “Yes, and apparently they weren’t all willing spouses, either,” returned Anna with spirit. “I believe there was a certain Louise from Savoy who was most reluctant, and definitely the one from Normandy—who was she?—Henriette? Why, there was even a Russian girl, I forget her name, who was forced to—”

  “Katherine,” supplied the Conde glibly, “although naturally she became Catalina upon her arrival at the Castillo.” His eyes were laughing into Anna’s, and her heart gave a queer little leap. “I think you know too much of our history al
ready, chica, but in the light of your knowledge you will agree that life was never unexciting. And while possibly there was some small degree of reluctance in those particular brides you have mentioned, it is significant, is it not, that they soon came round to their husbands’ way of thinking, and life was not then too unbearable.”

  “How very feudal and masterful you sound, Nicolas!” Cecily commented playfully, willing his attention back to herself. “Tell me, Nicolas, how formal are these informal dinners of yours? Will there be dancing?” Her face fell. “Oh, no, I’ll have to watch. I can’t dance with this horrid thing.”

  She extended her slender limb, glaring at the plaster on her ankle as if thereby it might dissolve in front of her eyes.

  “Do not be upset, Cecily. There will be dancing, yes, but I can assure you that you will be entertained, although at this stage you cannot participate in that activity. You will have, how you say, the seat of honour, where you may see everyone and everything, and the people will come to sit beside you, wishing to meet my little English traveller and sympathise with her predicament, no?”

  His voice was soothing, his eyes almost tender.

  “I wish I could dance.”

  There was genuine longing in Cecily’s voice as her glance seemed to lock with his.

  “So you will,” Nicolas hastened to comfort her. It seemed to Anna that he was very good at humouring her cousin. “It will not be long before your foot is entirely well, and then we will hold another celebration—a ball of such formality and magnificence that you will search for words to describe adequately the occasion. And Cecily will be queen of the Castillo for the evening, and she will dance every dance, and each time with a different partner, is it not? In the meantime, you must be content to deal solely in the intrigue of conversations, and the enchantment of my guests with those beautiful green eyes of yours, and Miss Trent will dance for both herself and you.”

  There was a moment of complete silence. Then—“Anna? Dance? Why, Nicolas, it’s sweet of you to wish to include her, but she’d much rather not, wouldn’t you, Anna? You know you hate—”

  “Of course she comes,” Nicolas interpolated, suddenly imperious. “You understand, Miss Trent, that my invitation naturally extends to you both, as guests in my house?”

  “I—I don’t think—” began Anna uncertainly.

  “You remember, Nicolas—I explained before,” Cecily took over quickly. “Anna doesn’t care for social gatherings on any scale. I thought you understood. She—she’d much rather not be included, wouldn’t you, pet?” There was a hint of threat behind the appeal in Cecily’s eyes, now bent upon Anna with almost hypnotic intensity.

  “Cecily is right, Senor Conde,” Anna said tonelessly. “I’m not accustomed to—to very much in the way of social entertainment, and I don’t expect—I mean—” she floundered, adding rather desperately, “After all, I am here in the capacity of an employee, a—companion.”

  The Conde considered her with narrowed black eyes.

  “You are also a relation,” he corrected her coldly, “and as such, you will naturally attend with your cousin.”

  “Nicolas, really!” Cecily’s exasperation was patent. “Don’t embarrass the girl with your feudal niceties. She’s a distant cousin only, so very distant that it hardly counts for anything.”

  “The smallest drop of blood is a claim to kinship, and therefore of a certain significance—in my country at least, senorita,” Nicolas told her reprovingly. “And since you find yourself in my country, I am convinced that you will do well to observe the customs that apply.”

  He vacated his chair in one lithe, athletic movement, and bowed to both girls with impartial courtesy,

  “I shall expect you both to attend the function, so there can be little profit in discussing further this unimportant matter,” he informed them pleasantly and finally. “I can assure you that there will be no lack of diversion for either you, Cecily, or for you, Miss Trent.” His shrewd gaze lingered a moment on Anna’s flushed face. The ghost of a smile played over his stern features.

  “Come, cheer up, little one,” he said to her. “You appear strangely tragic, but I promise you an evening of enjoyment. Can it be that you have read too much, and are affected by the same unwillingness that assailed Louise and Henriette and—ah—Catalina, of whom we spoke? You are coming to the party under duress, but you will be pleased that you did so. I must remind you that, in the end, their fears proved unfounded also!”

  With which unanswerable remark, he took his leave.

  For a few moments Cecily sat on. Presently she said, in a voice rigid with control,

  “Come up to my room, Anna. I want to talk to you, and we can have privacy there.” Her eyes were hard as agate.

  Anna followed in silence.

  When they were inside the apartment, she drew shut the panelled door, and they faced each other. Cecily took time to light herself a cigarette, still struggling to appear calm. The flame of her lighter revealed the slight tremor in her hands. She snuffed it out, and inhaled deeply.

  “Anna, I really do feel that you’re stepping out of your role a little bit, don’t you? I thought we’d already gone into this.”

  “I don’t quite follow what you mean.”

  Cecily laughed. It wasn’t her usual pretty laugh at all.

  “Come now, there’s no need for pretence between us. You had no right to accept downstairs just now. I’d already made your social position quite dear, and the least you could have done was to make some excuse yourself to get out of it, as Nicolas hoped you would.”

  Anna whitened.

  “H—how do you mean, hoped I would? He insisted just now that I was included.”

  “Dear, don’t be obtuse. You know how polite the Spanish are. He was merely considering your feelings. Well, it’s time you considered my feelings too. How d’you think I’ll feel having you there on an invitation issued out of pity alone? You can’t imagine you’ll be an asset to his sort of party, dear? On the contrary, in that dull little brown dress you’ll be an embarrassment to Nicolas as well as to me. The dressing will be more formal than that, you know, even though it’s not white tie and medals worn—or didn’t you stop to think of that?”

  Anna regarded her dully. She was swamped in such a sudden tide of misery and humiliation that she wanted nothing but to go away somewhere and hide.

  “I—hoped, if I asked you, that you might lend me a little money to buy something more suitable in Barcelona. The dinner isn’t till tomorrow night, and I know Guy would drive me in. I’d pay you back at home, Cecily. Of course I don’t want to disgrace you.” And you want to be a credit to the Conde, too, a small honest voice chided her innermost soul. Oh, Anna, what an admission!

  Cecily was watching her sharply, almost as though she had spoken her thought aloud.

  “I’ve no intention of lending you money for that sort of thing,” she told her crisply. “It would be an absolute waste, for one thing. When would you ever wear it in Britain? Anyway, Daddy’s helped you already with your wardrobe to come abroad, and I’ve got to guard our finances just now. We’ll need to do something about a car. Perhaps you’d forgotten that?”

  Anna was silent. She had a little money of her own, but it might be needed for emergencies Prudence forbade that she spend it on anything so frivolous as a long dress which she would possibly never wear again. Cecily was right, of course. They might need to hire a car, and it was not fair to expect her cousin to come to her aid. Yet she couldn’t wear the brown. She couldn’t endure the hollowness of Spanish compliments engendered by gallantry alone, when she would know herself to be unsuitably clad, and without the savoir faire to handle the situation with poise.

  No, she would be a dead loss, even an embarrassment, as Cecily had just predicted.

  “What do you think I should do?” she asked helplessly. “The Conde will be angry if I don’t appear. You saw how insistent he was down there just now.”

  “Politeness again,” Cecily pointed out
briskly. “Don’t overrate yourself, dear. It’s of no consequence to Nicolas whether you’re there or not. Just because he compliments you on your knowledge of the family history, don’t go getting any crazy ideas about—well, about anything, will you? You’ve been as busy as a little bee, haven’t you, swotting up about the Barientos connections. I really believe you were trying to impress him!”

  Anna flushed painfully.

  “It was with Senora de Ceverio that I made my studies, Cecily,” she pointed out stiffly. “Surely you don’t begrudge me the old lady’s company?”

  Cecily ground out her cigarette and walked over to the window.

  “No, I don’t grudge you her company, Anna. Nor Guy’s either. He’s a nice boy, and he’s said he’s willing to take you out whenever you like. In fact, he provides the perfect solution to your difficulty.” She turned back to Anna. “We’ll get him to take you out tomorrow night. You know he wants to show you the bright lights. All he needs is the go-ahead.”

  “But what about the Conde, and Senora de Ceverio? Won’t they think it awfully rude?”

  “Leave it to me, Anna.” Cecily laid a more friendly hand on her arm. “Ten to one they wouldn’t notice if you weren’t there, but I’ll explain beforehand. I’ll just say that you had this date with Guy, and that when Nicolas sprang the fact of his dinner-party on us, we both forgot about the other in the excitement. You know what Spanish etiquette is like—good manners above all things. He’ll understand that, having already accepted Guy, you couldn’t put him off for something more spectacular, no matter how much you wished it.”

  “Don’t you think I should go and tell him myself?” said Anna doubtfully.

  “Not at all, pet. His particular brand of mastery seems to put you in a panic, and you’d probably find yourself being browbeaten into coming after all, and then you’d be back to square one. Just leave it to me. I know how to manage Nicolas.”

  With a satisfied smile, Cecily waved her away, and Anna went off to immerse herself in a book, and tried to forget the pain inside her when she thought of the pleasure of which she had been robbed. It disturbed her that she should care so much, when she didn’t even like the Conde—not really. There was this masterful streak in him that just made Anna assert her own independence when with him. Yet here she was, languishing on a sculptured stone seat in one of his arbours, trying not to think of him as Nicolas, and striving to banish the memory of his laughing eyes upon her, and the electric thrill she had felt at his nearness.